Sick and Tired
by Buggy2013
Summary: Sometimes it's the last thing we want, but we all need to be taken care of from time to time. When Sam falls ill it's up to Jess to show him gentleness and care that he wants no part of. ***I don't own the characters, just the story :)


Three years he'd been on his own so far. He had a job, top grades, an amazing girlfriend, and a little apartment to call his. To say he was enjoying life would be an understatement. He was happy with where he was, and where his life was going. He was responsible and goal driven, so he rarely stressed about getting assignments done. He wasn't an ass, and Jess was perfect, so his love life was great. Sure he missed his family, but not enough to go back to them and lose all this. To top it off; he was really cool here. He was funny, smart, good in a fight, and he was the guy that was always happy. Well, hid stress the best anyway. He had a flawless poker face, and his peers knew him to keep his head in any situation. Sure, at home he could relax a little and bitch about this and that once in a while, and soak up a little attention. But Sam Winchester was in control, always in control and proud of it.  
On this particular day though, he was having a tough time staying in control. Normally it wouldn't be so bad, but it was only 8am and everything was going wrong. Computer glitches, slacker project teammates, and impending overtime at work all weighed on him. To make it worse, he seemed to have come down with something pretty nasty overnight. His muscles burned, his head pounded, and his eyelids seemed to weigh 1,000 lbs, making it hard to examine the review sheets before him. He leaned back against the couch and rested his eyes.  
He must have left them closed for too long, because two soft hands slid up and down his shoulders. "Don't fall asleep, babe. We've got class soon." She chirped from behind him. Her hands wandered to his neck. One flipped over and she felt the skin with the other side, then reached around and felt his forehead. "Do you feel alright? You're really warm." Sam grabbed her hands and placed a kiss on each one. "I'm fine, just a little tired." He lied, forcing himself to his feet. He swayed a bit, but shook it off and headed to the kitchen. Everything in the cupboard looked unappealing. He shut the door and turned, to find his hips pinned to the counter by his girlfriend's hands. "Maybe you should stay in today, you really don't look good." Despite feeling his aching muscles shake with the effort it took to stay upright, he forced a smile and a denial. "I'm fine. Let's get our stuff and head out, maybe we can stop for coffee." She shook her head, refusing to let him get away that easily. "Sam, you're white as a ghost, you're clammy and shaking, I'm sure you're running a fever, and you're wearing three layers in May. You're going to bed, not class." He felt defeated by the commanding tone. He HAD been raised to always obey a direct order. He felt his chest tense in irrational upset. Here he was out in his own, and he's still being controlled. Being deliberately gentle, he moved Jess aside and headed toward their bedroom. "Ghosts aren't really white." He shot childishly over his shoulder, not sure what possessed him to say something like that.  
He stripped to just his tee shirt and jeans and flopped facedown on the bed. He was tired enough to fall asleep, but was way too uncomfortable. He buried his face in the pillow and allowed himself to just feel bad. Poor choice. All the stress of the week, and the symptoms of his illness, Jess's commanding tone, and even a long put off longing to talk to his big brother all crashed at his emotional barriers in an untamable swarm. Before the end of five minutes a slow procession of tears was dampening the pillow while the ex hunter sniffled and fought to get a grip. A small, soft hand rested between his shoulder blades. "Hey" the gentle voice crooned. "What's with all the tears?" Sam ground his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, but he knew she could still feel his shaking and uneven breath. "I'm not crying, I'm sleeping." He lied, voice sounding strained. The hand moved in slow little circles. It worked less as a comfort and more to break down the already wavering floodgates. He couldn't let her see him like this, weak and vulnerable. His eyes burned, consequentially setting his already aching head ablaze from within. "You're going to be late." He forced out, not wanting her to really leave, but she couldn't stay here and see this. "I'm not going to leave. Not until I make sure you get some rest."  
"I am resting."  
"You don't look very restful."  
The hand left his back, leaving the heat from where she touched to cool uncomfortably. A small whine of displeasure escaped him. "I'll be right back." Sam used her absence to wipe at his face and try to erase the evidence of being a blattass. His head swam and he laid back down, arms now cradling his face.  
"Can you roll over for me, babe?" She requested, closing the bedroom door behind her. "No" he replied petulantly. He felt her settle next to him. "But I need to take your temperature... Unless you'd like to do it the hard way?" Her finger slid down the back seam of his jeans, resting just over it's mark. Sam flipped himself over and propped himself against the wall. "Good, I didn't really like the second option either." She stuck the device under his tongue and waited patiently. "You poor thing." She cooed, making the large man blush. He wasn't used to this kind of attention. "103.3, you must feel awful. You know that if we can't bring this down then I'll have to take you to the clinic, right?" Sam started to shake his head in protest, but aborted the motion when it resulted in stabbing pain. He'd try again later. Right now he was groggy and just felt miserable. He shivered and Jess handed him some pills and water. "It's Motrin, take those and we'll take a nap." He was all too willing to comply at this point, swallowing the pills and handing the water back. He fought clumsily to get under the covers, and curled up when he finally managed it. Jess slid in beside him and her curled closer to her heat. "Love you" he mumbled before drifting off.-  
He woke up alone in bed hours later. He felt like crap and didn't want to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed, but nature was calling (very loudly). He stood slowly and made his way to the bathroom. The small apartment was empty and he didn't miss that it was dark outside. He took care of business and meandered back to the main living area, stretching his sore, jittery muscles. He curled under the afghan on the couch and turned the tv on.-  
"Sam, baby?" He awoke groggily, feeling stiff and just plain awful. "Hey, how are you feeling?" She sounded worried. "Crap." He replied thickly. "Sorry, you still have some time before you can have more medicine." She clucked sympathetically. "Time?" The giant asked, trying to break through the grogginess. "It's almost 10. You were asleep all day, aside from when I got you up." Sam looked at her quizzically. "You didn't get me up, I just got up." She nodded enthusiastically. "I woke you up every four hours to take your meds, stretch, and try to get some fluids in you. I ran to the store once you'd layed back down after I'd gotten you up at 8, then I met up with Matt to get notes from our classes." She rambled, trying to open some kind of package. Sam was still feeling heavy and tired to his disbelief. Jess slid the thermometer under his tongue and returned to fiddling with the wrappers in her hands until it beeped. "101.5, that's the lowest it's been all day. We might have to take you to the clinic tomorrow, hun." Sam shook his head slowly, mindful of the aching pain. "I'll be fine. It's Friday, right? Just give me Saturday and Sunday in bed and I'll be back on my feet." He tried to compromise, despite hating that option only slightly less than the first. Jess didn't look convinced. Honestly, he couldn't tell if he liked being fussed over or not. She finally managed to open whatever it is that she was playing with, and Sam watched as she got up and tossed a few long, blue objects in the freezer. She came back, sitting hip to hip with him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Give those a little while and we'll try them."  
"What are they?" She played with his overheated fingers. "Gel ice packs. It should help to bring the fever down." Sam sighed and rested his head atop hers, soaking up the contact despite his internal struggle. "Why are you doing this?" He tried to sound like he was ready for a serious conversation, but just sounded hoarse and cranky. "Because I want you to feel better." She replied, doodling shapes on his giant paw. "I appreciate it, but I'm a big boy. I can keep track of myself." He grumbled quietly. "I know you can, sweetheart. I like to help when I can though." She scratched his thigh affectionately. "And you know, I can see right through you." The groggy man picked his head up, looking down at her. "I mean, you're not a robot, or Superman, or something. You get hurt, and sick, and stressed, and nervous, and insecure. I can tell when you're putting on a brave face. I just want you to know that you can lean on me. I lean on you, don't you trust me enough?" He sighed, wrapping an arm around her. "Of course I trust you..."  
"Why does it sound like a 'but' is going to follow that?" He sighed and pulled her closer, now she was nearly in his lap. "No 'but', just... What gave me away?" He asked lamely, feverish mind not functioning at normal capacity. "Did you know that you bite your nails?" She asked, resting a cool hand on his hot face. A small smile pulled at his lips. "Not since I was a kid. Dean used to dip my fingers in lemon juice and vinegar and stuff." He made a small noise of contentment when her fingers ran through his hair. "That's where you're wrong. Whenever you're stressed or thinking something over too hard you chew them down to the quick. You just did another one too."  
"What?"  
"Whenever you start getting insecure or miss your family you talk about your brother nonstop. About whether or not he'd approve of something you've done, or things you did when you were little. Do you ever consider calling them?" Of course he had, but they didn't want to hear from him. His answer was to sink lower in his seat, giving her better access to his head, where she continued playing with his hair. "Let's get one of those cold packs on you, then I'll make dinner." She planned quietly. "Okay" he answered flatly, but held her tighter, as if he couldn't let go just yet. She sat and let him hold her for a good long while, even when the grip became uncomfortably tight. Finally, he let go and she wordlessly fulfilled the plan. While she was out in the kitchen, the tall man reached for his phone. "Hello?" His breath caught in his throat when the husky voice answered.  
"Dean?" Well duh.  
"Sammy? You okay, kiddo?"  
He swallowed the lump in his throat, but it didn't help much. God he misses his brother.  
"I'm fine" he answers shakily.  
"You're sure about that?" Of course Dean knew he was upset, he always knew. "I'm sure, a little under the weather, but I won't die." A tear slid down his face, longing overtaking him. "Okay, sure. How's school?"  
"It's great. I'm at 4.0 or higher every semester, I've got an amazing girlfriend. How's the hunt?"  
"Oh you know, pretty rugged. Same ol same ol." There was a strangely comfortable silence on the line.  
"Listen buddy, not that I don't love hearing from you, but you should probably pick a better time to call a hunter. Dad and I are about to head out on a case."  
"Yeah, okay sure. Talk to you later?"  
"Last I checked, dad was giving you the cold shoulder, not me."  
Sam let out a wet chuckle that turned into a sloppy 'kay'.  
"Take care of yourself, bitch."  
"You too, jerk."  
He hung up and wiped his eyes for the second time that day. The second time in three long years. The second time since he swore off letting anything but his own will control him. He dropped his face into his hands, exhausted by the whole ordeal. Something cool draped on his neck and he could almost feel the fever being pulled from the skin. He hummed in contentment as Jess slid it up so that it rested on the area where his head joined his neck. "Feel better?" Yes, so much better. Between the three minute phone call and the ice sapping the extra heat from his aching head, he felt like some sort of valve had been released and he was being drained of all the negative energy that had built up lately. "Much better, thank you."


End file.
